


Stay the Night

by MartianSquid



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But it ends up sorta fluffy anyhow, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Frottage, Hetero!Sebastian, Heterosexual Character, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sleepy Sex, Somewhat impersonal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartianSquid/pseuds/MartianSquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is woken in the middle of the night. For a moment, he thinks it might be an assassin. Turns out it's his boss, and he might've actually preferred a hit attempt. </p>
<p>He might've actually known what to do if it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay the Night

Sebastian is sitting against the headboard, cigarette burning against the darkness, perched between his fingers. The nightstand lamp isn’t on, as it usually would be in this situation, except he’s got something of an unexpected guest. 

Jim is snuggled up on his thigh, arm loosely draped over his lap, snoring almost imperceptible. Moran’s only concession in this scene is a hand rubbing over his back. 

If it weren’t 3am when Jim had broken in, Sebastian may have put up some protest, or even questioned why Jim was there. But his mind was dim, shaded by exhaustion. 

 

* * *

 

He’d been asleep. Moved in with his mysterious boss about two months ago, and things were finally beginning to get comfortable. Even started to intersperse calling his boss “Jim” on off-duty days.  

Of course, it was a tad unnerving, knowing that at any time, some bloke or gang that Moriarty had crossed could break in and shoot the place up, but Sebastian slept well — he couldn’t have survived in Iraq if he couldn’t rest through a _little_ mortal peril. 

But tonight wasn’t anything like that.

_Bullets_ , he was ready for. Knives, men, even a fire bomb he’d been _prepped_ for. Prepped to die, probably, but at least he knew what to expect. 

A sleepy, needy, and apparently _horny_ Jim in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly in the training manual. Especially when it’d been too warm for proper pajamas, so he’d kipped off in his boxers. 

Moran had prided himself on being a light sleeper, but Jim, even half-asleep, juiced on adrenaline, was somehow graceful as a nymph. Sebastian didn’t know he was there until he was woken by a weight dipping down his mattress. 

“Wha- fuck! What the hell?!” Sebastian choked out, struggling under the weight that crawled over him, trying to push up for leverage. Based on weight, too small to be an assassin, probably, and-

“Shut up, Sebastian.” Came Jim’s gruff lilt. The words ended as he pressed their lips together, replaced only by heavy breathing. 

Teeming with questions or not, that was a direct order. So Sebastian let it happen, large hands curling around Jim’s narrow hips. Jim tasted like cigarettes, whiskey, and mint. Somewhat grotesque of a combination, but with similar habits, he probably tasted no different. Just hadn’t imagined someone so fastidious would be- 

Well, if Moran were being entirely honest, he _hadn’t_ imagined this at all. Had noted Jim was probably gay, with his lack of interest in any and all women (that Sebastian himself had trouble looking away from), but for the most part, Jim seemed asexual, minus the constant flirting. But it always seemed like a bluff, a way of watching his resolutely straight bodyguard put off-ease. 

But the smaller man atop him, erection digging into Sebastian’s stomach, this was anything but a _bluff_. 

It wasn’t much different than a woman. A woman he wasn’t particularly attracted to, with stubble scratching his chin, but nonetheless, the friction of Jim’s undulating hips was getting him just as hard. 

And the force of just how much Jim _wanted_. Whether or not it was about Sebastian specifically, it was hot. 

Straining against his pants, Seb was almost grateful when he felt Jim’s hand slide between them, yanking the fabric down just enough to free his cock, warm fingers wrapping around it without hesitation, jerking quickly. 

“ _Jesus_ …” Sebastian whispered, breath stolen from him, “Not shy about what you want…” 

It was quiet, but he caught the faintest bit of laughter from Jim in reply. “And apparently you _are_.” 

Pointed as anything, and Moran just had to be a people-pleaser. It was somewhat funny that Jim was more dressed — shirt, sweatpants — but not anymore difficult to undress. His hands slid down, taking the sweatpants with them, rolling over to take control. 

Jim, now under him, stared up, grinning, rocking his hips up with no less vigor than his hand. Eager not to disappoint, Sebastian batted it away, lining up their cocks, holding them both in his large, lightly calloused hand, stroking slowly.

This made Jim whine impatiently, bucking up in frustration, “ _Sebastian_.” It was less of the commanding tone from earlier, moving into a plead. That was almost too much, and definitely enough for Seb’s hand to speed up, reclaiming his lips. 

It didn’t last very long. Jim was already high-strung, wanting. He came first, spurting over Sebastian’s hand and his own stomach. Moran continued for another few minutes, not quite as keyed up. Jim didn’t seem to mind, minus squirming from over-stimulation, hands coming up to pet Sebastian’s cheeks, murmuring how sweet he was. 

Probably all utter lies, of course, but Sebastian’s orgasm was building up to hit him like a train. Different than just masturbating somehow, and with a final few thrusts, he was there too, both of them sticky now. 

“Towel.” Jim huffed, “Or it’s your sheets on the line.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Seb grumbled back, getting up on shaky legs, pulling his pants back up, going to the laundry hamper and pulling up a dirty one, wiping his hands. It’d do. He tossed it at Jim, who immediately swiped it over his belly, throwing it to the ground.

Seb, a bit too awake now, grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his dresser, and a lighter, plopping back down on the mattress. 

“Stop moving so much.” Jim curled around his leg.

“Want a smoke?”

But Jim was already out. Sebastian sighed, guessing that meant his guest would be staying. 

 

* * *

 

Sebastian stubs out the cigarette on the tray on the nightstand, shifting until he is laying down again. Jim’s arm lifts indulgently, some unconscious function, and by the same mechanism, curls over him again. 

Moran doesn’t fight it, arm snaking under the smaller man’s head, letting him close to his chest. Sweat had made the slight draft almost freezing, and Jim was practically a furnace. 

He’d figure out if this was going to be a regular thing or not later — what did it matter? Sebastian is decidedly too old for an identity crisis: he’s still straight, Jim and the occasional appreciative shag isn’t a threat to that. 

Before he falls asleep, he can swear he feels Jim kiss his chest. 


End file.
